


we've lost it to trying

by sorrybutnothanks (acciopotatoes)



Series: things you said: twc edition [1]
Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: F/M, angst but not too heavy, anyway, if that makes any sense, if youre like me its just enough angst to make you happy, things you said at 1am, what is arins last name?????these are the things that keep me up at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:59:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4651383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciopotatoes/pseuds/sorrybutnothanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The light was low, the hour was late, and the feeling was lovely. </p>
<p>He wanted more than he could ever have.</p>
<p>(((not set in any particular au but it isn't explicitly canon either. but there are allusions to canon in the form of elaborate analogies. "things you said at 1am".)))</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've lost it to trying

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the only short thing i'll ever write lmao my writing always ends up being longer than i meant it to
> 
> this is the first time it's been shorter than i thought it would be but whatever

The light was low, the hour was late, and the feeling was lovely.

But much like the Valorian dagger lying on the nightstand where Kestrel had discarded it, almost everything had two sides. Arin thought about all the other two-sided things, then decided that there were too many to think about, and instead thought only about all the two-sided things in the room. Such as the lovely feeling, but also poisonous, an insidious and addictive sweetness with an edge of sour from all the things between them. It lingered heavy on the air like wine clinging to fabric, a stain that wouldn't come out, despite all the time spent scrubbing that ended up just damaging the fabric and rubbing the issue deeper.

Arin dropped a light kiss to Kestrel's hair. Her face was shoved into a pillow, breathing even and slow, and for once Arin was up and she was asleep. It was almost always the other way around, with her Valorian-trained sleeplessness and he decidedly not being a morning person.

Softly, so as to not wake her, he whispered, "I wish."

He felt no need to clarify what he wished and what he didn't. He knew. She knew. The god of wishes knew, who was apparently damned certain that he would never get entirely what he wished, and instead dragged him around on a hook of a promise.

Besides, even if Arin felt the need to voice his wants and wishes, there were all too many that were all too idealistic, and therefore impossible.

It was, however, early morning, a half-real state of time where situations seemed to lag and reason wandered about in the back of one's mind before being shoved aside. Arin wished. Arin wanted. He wanted more than he could ever have.


End file.
